The Trap
by Ms Pimprenelle
Summary: Miss Bennet and Mr Darcy encounter a very strange creature on Rosings's lanes. Written for a CrackFic challenge.


Warning: My knowledge from Pokémon is more than a decade old - I used to watch my cousin play video games and watched the series with him.

The P&P part of the story is set in the Regency, but it's probably more silly than what I wrote usually (which isn't serious anyways).

* * *

Elizabeth Bennet was walking along her favourite lane in Rosings Park in silence, sulking because of the unwanted presence of Mr Darcy at her side. Had she been alone, she might have gone to take a look at a nearby cave. Local people said that it was full of belligerent rocks, and that it was best to avoid it. Rational minds said that there was no such thing as stones launching themselves at unsuspecting explorers, and that the cave's ceiling was crumbly, so rocks would naturally fall from it now and then. To this the older generation answered that young people these days thought they knew everything when it was far from true.

Elizabeth wanted to see the place by herself.

She was trying to devise a way to politely make the gentleman understand that it would be better if he left and got lost. Her favoured strategy was to begin a discussion over the relative merits of the lace found in Hunsford and Meryton. She had just decided that she would also ask about the quality of the material found in Kympton, for it was in this parish that the horrible Mr Darcy had cruelly denied dear Mr Wickham a living, but she had barely opened her mouth than the most extraordinary thing happened.

A dark-haired young man wearing a curious red and white cap and an oddly cut blue waistcoat jumped in their way and threw a red and white ball on the ground. Neither she nor her companion had had the time to react when the most terrifying creature came out of it, which resembled none that Elizabeth had ever met. Its main colour was yellow and it was rather rotund, save for black pointed ears and a tail in a shape reminiscent of that of a lightning bolt. The beast's most curious feature were two red dots on its cheeks - as if it was wearing rouge. Before Elizabeth could observe it further, the animal launched itself at them. She had previously said that her courage rose whenever one attempted to intimidate her, but this was way beyond anything she had experienced, or even dreamed to experience, and she had referred to somewhat civilised drawing-room attacks anyway. Thus, she did what any well-bred young lady would have done in the same situation: she shrieked, which had the unexpected consequence of making Mr Darcy turn towards her and hold her in his arms (he had first stepped in front of her when the interloper had appeared).

The yellow monster was still in the midst of its tackle and hit Mr Darcy fully in the back, sending both young people on the ground. Before any of them could rise or even utter an embarrassed syllable, there was a blur of red and white, and something not unlike a net fell upon them. Elizabeth whimpered and huddled closer to Mr Darcy, who had first attempted to fight the _thing_ but appeared to have thought better of it when faced with her distress and held her tightly instead, whispering reassuring words in her ear. She did notice, though, that his voice was unsteady. Shortly aftewards, faint notes of music could be heard and the oppressive sensation ceased. Elizabeth moved her head from Mr Darcy's shoulder and looked around. The first word that came in her mind to describe the place they were in was _cocoon_. Soft, red and white, round.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" she whispered.

"None, I am afraid."

He released her from his embrace and took her hand instead. She supposed she should be outraged at his presumption but could feel only gratitude for the comfort his touch gave her. She and Mr Darcy might dislike each other, but they knew each other.

Of course, dear reader, you are aware that Elizabeth isn't even knowing herself at this point—but I digress.

"Do you think we have been abducted for a ransom?" she asked in a short-breathed voice. "My father will never be able to pay! That is, if he even exerts himself to read the letter as soon as it arrives!"

"Worry not about that, Miss Bennet. I shall keep you safe."

Elizabeth murmured her thanks, and they settled in a silence more companionable than she had ever experienced with the gentleman, which was an easy thing. Their cocoon, for lack of a better word, was gently swaying, and Elizabeth supposed that they had been put atop a horse.

Soon, however, she was beset by gloomy thoughts and began to cry.

"Do not despair. We shall find a way out of this predicament."

"But what if we do not? What if I never see Jane again? She will be sick with worry for all the time I am missing. She is already heartbroken, I do not wish to be the cause of additional worry for her."

"Heartbroken?"

"You should know, sir," a peeved Elizabeth answered, "for you certainly had a part in her separation from Mr Bingley!"

"She loved him?"

"She loves him still!"

At this he appeared ashamed.

"Were he to call on her, would she receive him?"

Elizabeth was speechless, which Darcy took for encouragement to continue.

"If I was wrong in my assessment of her feelings, it is only right that I try to repair the harm I caused."

Elizabeth's perplexity must have shown on her face, for Darcy frowned.

"Does it not please you?"

"It does. It only seems at odds with what I know of your character," she said without thinking.

"Do not tell me," he said with a huff, "that you would favour Mr Wickham's words over my actions?"

"Your actions in Hertfordshire were not at all remarkable!"

He scowled. "Still, would you dare call them dishonourable?"

She pursed her lips but said nothing. After a moment of silence, she asked:

"Then why did you refuse Mr Wickham that living?"

"Because he refused it first and was compensated accordingly."

"Oh."

"He told me he would rather study the law than take orders."

"He obviously did not succeed," she mused.

"I am not even certain he applied himself at all. In any case, when he came back a couple years afterwards to ask for the living—"

"—you rightly refused him," an unhappy Elizabeth completed. It was very vexing to have been so wrong! She sighed.

"Miss Bennet?"

"You must think me very foolish for having believed him."

He shrugged. "My own father would not see the man for what he was either. I imagine I cannot resent you for trusting him when given no other warning than my own dislike."

Elizabeth nodded. The swinging had stopped, and half a dozen high-pitched notes were heard, played on an instrument Elizabeth could not identify, as light pulsed through their nest's walls. She felt immediately refreshed, and a glance at Mr Darcy, who had held himself rather stiffly until then, allowed her to see that he also was feeling better. Elizabeth was still looking at him when he turned his head and met her gaze.

"Fear not," he said.

She rolled her eyes. They had _every reason_ to be afraid and it was a perfectly reasonable reaction. What mattered was to keep their wits around them in spite of it. She shared this with her companion who commented, a little miffed:

"As you did when we were attacked, I suppose?"

 _Drat. Point to him._ Elizabeth pouted. And then the nest reeled, and opened, and they were thrown unceremoniously on a tiled floor. Various creatures were around them, some of them looking mostly like average animals, other like giant insects, other had distinct vegetal characteristics. They appeared friendly.

Their attacker, an old man, and a young girl with red hair—and barely any clothing—were standing on the side. Further away was a young lady in a pink dress with white apron and bonnet and … _pink hair_? The day was becoming stranger and stranger. Elizabeth resumed her position in Mr Darcy's arms. The gentleman smirked but refrained to comment. Their abductor was talking with the old man.

"How is this one named?" the younger asked, pointing at Darcy.

"I am Mr Darcy of Pemberley, and I _demand_ to know what is going on!"

"Mr Darcy?" the boy said, looking alternatively at the old man and at a smile device in his hand. "I never met that one before, and it is not in the Pokédex! Have you truly never heard of it?"

"There are two," the girl said. "I did not know one could catch two pokémons with only one Pokéball."

"The bigger one must have been holding the smaller when I caught him," the boy answered.

"So you have caught a Mr Darcy," the old man said after a long look at the trapped pair. "As far as I am concerned, the mystery is not his nature, but the fact you managed to catch one human being—even two—with a tool devised to catch animals. The batch you bought must have some flaw."

"Human beings? But they are so strangely dressed!"

"There must be cosplayers or actors."

"Or fashions are simply different on the other side of the tunnel," said the old man.

"I am _not_ an actor," said Darcy in a tight voice, "and I will _not_ let you insult Miss Bennet!"

The old man sighed. "We will have to put them back from where they came. You should condemn the tunnel between both worlds as you come back."

The boy nodded in agreement, while the old man motioned to the pink-haired girl to come forward. She took Elizabeth's arm before the young lady or Mr Darcy could react. She felt a sting, and all turned black.

She came back to her sense in the lane she had been when all began. Mr Darcy was on the ground at her side and was also waking up. A glance at the sun allowed them to surmise that it was rather late in the day so, after agreeing to meet again on the morrow, their each went on their way, he to his aunt's home, she to the parsonage.

Charlotte Collins did not remark on her lateness, and the day went on as usual, to the extent that on waking up the following morning, Elizabeth had quite convinced herself that her memories were nothing but a dream. Extraordinary creatures, and Mr Wickham being a villain? Preposterous! She went on her walk nonetheless, and met Mr Darcy who enquired after her well-being.

"I am perfectly well, sir, though I had the strangest dream."

He stopped walking and she turned to look at him in confusion.

"I fear," he said slowly, "that it was no dream. I might also have dismissed my memories were it not for this."

He put his hand in his pocket and retrieved a small red and white ball. Elizabeth gasped.

"Where did you get this?"

"The boy emptied his bag on learning these were defective. I helped myself."

Elizabeth took the ball in her hand. For a thing that was so powerful, it seemed rather inoccuous.

"Of course we cannot tell this to anyone," the gentleman continued. "I suspect we would end committed in Bedlam if we did."

"Of course."

They walked together that morning and the followings. Elizabeth enjoyed their newfound companionship. It was only when Mr Darcy proposed to her that she realised that hiss appreciation for her had not been recent. His proposal went far better than it could have been: he managed to insult her family in the process, but she called him out on this, and since their opinion on most of them coincided, she accepted his offer.

They lived happily together, mostly at Pemberley, and the mysterious traps that had brought them together were never far from them. One may or may not have been used against Mr Wickham when he tried to abscond with Lydia Bennet—Mr Darcy had kept resolutely silent on that point. Word spread about the Mysterious Power that was used by the Darcys, and highwaymen knew to stay clear of their carriage.


End file.
